


Balance

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Brotherhood, Canon Divergence - Order 66, Clone Rights, F/M, Gen, Gray Jedi, Gray Jedi Anakin Skywalker, Gray Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi, Inappropriate Humor, Jedi Politics (Star Wars), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Anakin Skywalker, Psychological Trauma, Rebuilding the Republic, Sith Politics, almost everyone lives, bad life choices
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:46:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22530445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “I’m not going to kill Palpatine because I hate him,” Obi-Wan says serenely. “I’m going to kill him so Anakin can’t.”In a bid to pull Anakin back to the Light, Obi-Wan hurls himself into the Dark. They both land somewhere in the middle and the whole Galaxy shakes with the impact..No Order 66. Everyone lives. Anakin continues to make terrible life choices.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Clone Troopers, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 380
Kudos: 1312





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story is ENTIRELY Hannah's fault!
> 
> It's also very long and very plotty. We're digging deep into lore, politics, ethics and mental health within the SW universe. 
> 
> This story diverges from canon before the Council moves to arrest Palpatine, so no Order 66 and no massacre at the Temple. 
> 
> Updates every Sunday!

Only the highest-ranking members of the Council are in attendance. Silent in the face of such gravity, they listen with heavy hearts as Master Obi-Wan Kenobi delivers his report.

He's found their Sith Lord. 

“All these years,” desolation is laced with every word Obi-Wan speaks, “we’ve been blind.” Exhaustion clings to him, the weight of failure colliding with years of hardship and finally opening a crack in well-fortified armor to reveal the heartache below. For too long he has been the shield between the Republic and its enemies and the fractures inflicted by years of war have sunk deep. 

“Clouded, the Dark Side has always been. Hard to see.” The small figure of Master Yoda barely casts a shadow across the Council chambers. He looks, finally, every one of his many years.

“I failed Anakin.” There’s no self-hatred in Obi-Wan’s voice, just a simple presentation of the facts.

“Don’t go down that path,” Mace Windu warns. “You saw the damage it did to Qui-Gon.” The two situations are wildly different and they all know it. There is no precedent for this kind of betrayal. 

“Xanatos succumbed to greed and ambition,” Obi-Wan shakes his head. “His pursuit of power was wholly selfish.” His father was a wealthy man who offered him power, position, and prestige, all things the Jedi actively avoid. The temptation overcame Xanatos and likely would've regardless of further influence. Xanatos sought to reclaim the power of his birthright; Anakin was born into nothing.

Still, Mace frowns. “And Skywalker’s not?” 

Obi-Wan turns to the closest window and allows his gaze to drift over a blood-red sunset. From the high tower of the Council chambers, the world below looks far removed. It's a problem that, until now, none of them have truly appreciated. “All Anakin has ever wanted is to protect the people he cares about. Instead of nurturing that, we allowed our dogmatic adherence to the code to drive him into the waiting arms of the Sith.”

“Make his own choices, Anakin does,” Yoda says. “Responsible for his decisions, _you_ are not.”

“I know,” he nods. “But I was his teacher,” Obi-Wan’s shoulders don't slump. He is, as ever, the consummate Jedi. An outward idea of perfect that's impossible to maintain. 

“Find no fault with your teaching did we,” Yoda says. “A credit your Padawan to you was.”

“If the Chancellor is the Sith we’ve been looking for then he’s likely been grooming Anakin to the Dark Side for years.” The timber of Mace’s voice is flint hard cold, his own failure a heavy burden to shoulder. “That we didn’t see it is our collective failure, Obi-Wan, not yours to carry alone.”

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “What responsibility had I as the boy’s Master if not to protect him?”

The two veteran Council members share a shadowed look. “Not too late, it is,” Yoda implores. “Return young Skywalker to the Light we must.”

“We arrest Palpatine,” Mace agrees. “Break his influence on the boy _and_ the Senate.”

Obi-Wan surprises them both. “No.” He’s never been afraid to challenge either Master, but a core of reverence and respect has always combined with impeccable manners - he’s never so blatantly refused them anything. Still, he has long held both their esteem and trust and hasn’t earned his reputation as a master strategist for nothing.

“Sense something, do you Obi-Wan?” Yoda has always excelled at pulling his students from the clouded depths of their own thoughts.

Obi-Wan is silent for several minutes before answering. “He’s been planning this for years. I fear to attempt his arrest would be playing into his hands. Besides, his supporters are well entrenched within the Senate. The Courts will never convict him.”

“He’s a Sith,” Mace shakes his head. “He’ll be tried by the Jedi.”

Yoda shakes his head sadly, already sensing the direction Obi-Wan is headed.

“The Republic would never allow it,” Obi-Wan says. “We cannot claim to defend democracy only to impose our own law on someone who has yet to be found guilty. The people already struggle to remember us as peacekeepers; we cannot be tyrants.”

“Then what do you propose?” Mace asks him. When Obi-Wan doesn’t immediately answer, he looks to Yoda for clarification. The grave expression on the old Master's face says everything. “Killing him, even if such a thing is possible, would create no less chaos in the Senate.”

“It’s possible,” Obi-Wan says softly. “Relieve me of my Command. Expel me from the order. Arrest me when it’s done and allow the Senate to execute me as a traitor.”

Mace stares at him with open-mouthed horror.

“Much thought you have put into this,” Yoda says sadly.

Obi-Wan turns back from the window, his gaze sharp. “He’s taken Anakin as his apprentice. He’ll do to him what he did to Maul - make him commit an act so unforgivable it will burn any hope of him seeking help or forgiveness. Once that’s done, he will twist and corrupt and pervert everything good in him until Anakin strikes him down and takes his place. There will be no saving him from that path. I will _not_ let that happen.”

“Too soon, it is. Not ready.” It's unclear whether Yoda means himself or Obi-Wan.

“No one is ever ready,” Obi-Wan says. “I wasn’t when Qui-Gon died and I was left to face Maul alone. We do what we must.”

“Killing Palpatine will cost you more than you can afford to give.” The clear reason Mace is trying to convey finds no reception. Obi-Wan’s mind is made up and their thoughts on the matter are no longer relevant. Short of striking him down, they cannot stop him. “You have more reason than any to hate the Sith,” Mace tries one last attempt to sway him. “But you must not give in to it. You belong to the Light.”

Obi-Wan nods in agreement and then does something neither of them has seen him do in months: he smiles.

“I’m not going to kill him because I hate him,” he says serenely, at peace with his fate. “I’m going to kill him so Anakin can’t.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many apologies for the delay! Last night I got to pretend I was cool and go to a fancy party :D

Cody’s been in General Kenobi’s quarters enough times to not be surprised by their state, but it’s likely the first time Rex has been here. Everything about his General screams neatness, from his carefully trimmed hair and beard down to the way he can almost dissolve into a non-entity, easily overlooked and unimpressive. The man can dominate the battlefield one minute and become so quiet and still the next that it’s entirely possible to forget he is even in the room. More than one vod has fallen into that trap over the years. More than one enemy as well.

Rex can be forgiven then, in light of the General’s quiet, contained, humble demeanor, for imagining the man living in sparse, unwelcoming, monastic misery of a space. Instead, they find themselves waiting in a room that, while not untidy, can comfortably be called ‘cluttered’. The small couch is home to a well-worn blanket, hand-knit by General Skywalker in his teens, and an odd assortment of cushions that look like they’ve been assembled from the far-flung corners of the galaxy. There’s art created by some of the Initiates on the walls, warming the clean white space with splashes of vibrant - and at times violently clashing - colors. The small kitchenette is well stocked with spices and neatly stacked tins of Obi-Wan’s biggest vice - tea.

Cody’s been the guest of a number of meals hastily thrown together by Obi-Wan and Anakin, frequently ordered to rest at the table while the two Jedi gracefully dance around each other, throwing ingredients and teasing barbs with equal good humor. Anakin is the better cook by far, but Obi-Wan makes a mean stew. The little round table in the corner of the room has more chairs crammed around it than is really comfortable, but it speaks to the number of friends who frequently gather during those rare moments of shoreleave.

Between the two doors that lead to a bedroom and fresher, Obi-Wan’s desk is piled high with data chips, hologram disks, archive folders, and the odd old fashioned physical texts. A large digital planetarium fills the wall behind it.

Add a good number of plants hanging from the ceiling or balanced precariously from a shelf, half a dozen handmade models of fighter jets and star ships, a pile of neatly folded over cloaks returned from the exile of their adventures and the remains of whatever project Anakin is tinkering with spread out on a small kaf table and you have a well-lived in, comfortable space that’s brimming with life. It’s one of Cody’s favorite places in the galaxy. If he’s here, the darkness in the world becomes proof of the light’s existence. If he’s here, he can let his guard down.

“Not what you were expecting?” the corner of his mouth twitches as he watches Rex take everything in.

“Next you’re gonna tell me that Windu paints his walls pink.”

“Purple,” Cody grins. He has to bite back a wider grin when his brother actually looks like he’s imagining just that. “It’s not purple,” he says. Then, just to mess with him, adds, “I don’t think.”

This will come full circle, he knows it. Rex will ask General Skywalker, who has no filter and will ask Master Windu - probably somewhere grossly inappropriate - and Cody will be subjected to one of Obi-Wan’s numerous Anakin themed stress headaches.

He clocks Rex’s growing curiosity. Worth it. One hundred percent.

The front door slides open with a hydraulic hiss, prompting both troopers to attention, their humor shelved for a later date. The General doesn’t look pleased to see them. If anything, he looks almost ill.

When was his last medical? Not too long ago, it can’t be. He’s only just been cleared again for duty after the last clusterfrick and the Doc is almost as neurotic about their General’s health as Cody is.

The General greets them only with an incline of his head, slipping past them into the kitchenette and rummaging in a cupboard. Cody has grown to appreciate Obi-Wan’s various teas, but he can see Rex quietly resign himself to swallowing the bitter drink down politely.

He’s saved, rather dramatically, when Obi-Wan sets three glasses down on the table and pops the lid off a bottle of frothy blue liquid.

Tsiraki _._ Not tea.

Cody and Rex share a look of wide-eyed worry. It’s one thing to be summoned to the Temple to speak with a High General and something else to be summoned to the General’s private quarters. To then be poured hearty glasses of a liquor that is occasionally used for cleaning the mess floors on the Negotiator is beyond their operating parameters.

Cody is both the higher ranking officer and then vod closest to the General, so he gets to be the one to ask. “Is everything okay, sir?”

Obi-Wan summons them over to take a seat at the table, nudging them each a glass with an uncharacteristically thoughtless use of the Force. “That, Cody, depends greatly on your point of view.”

Obi-Wan isn’t the type of man to use the offer of hooch as a setup, so either he needs a drink before he can talk to them - in which case they’re probably all royally fricked - or he thinks _they_ need a drink first and is just being polite. In either case, it’s so starkly against his usually straightforward method of operating that both Cody and Rex take their drinks without further question.

“Sir? Is General Skywalker alright?” Obi-Wan has often said his former apprentice drove him to drink, most of the time while clutching a mug of tea, a wry smile that belongs only to Anakin Skywalker softening the lines of stress on his face.

Obi-Wan doesn’t answer at first.

Cody can feel the tension coiling in Rex’s muscles as the silence stretches on, his own anxiety rapidly coiling to match it.

Anakin can’t be dead. Obi-Wan is too calm, too quiet, too... Jedi. There would be something more, something deeper. He _loves_ Anakin.

He loved Satine as well. Cody still remembers the cloak of grief that clung to Obi-Wan in the wake of her murder.

So Anakin can’t be dead.

Something invisible snaps behind Obi-Wan’s thousand-yard stare. He shudders, takes a sharp gulp of his drink and sets the glass down with a heavy clink. “My apologies,” he says, “Anakin is fine, Captain. I need your help to keep him that way.”

“Sir,” Cody and Rex say as one, their relief palpable.

Fine is a baseline from which they can work miracles.

“I’m sure you’ve heard rumors that the 212th is moving on General Grievous. The mission is of the highest classification, so I imagine you all know by now.” A spark of familiar humor finally reaches Obi-Wan’s clouded gaze.

“We, er, might’ve heard something, Sir,” Rex says.

Obi-Wan’s lip twitches. “Indeed.”

“Give us a few hours, General,” Cody says. “We’ll find you the name of the leak.”

Obi-Wan shakes off the offer. “No need, Cody. He’s sat at this table with you.”

“Sir?”

“What I am about to discuss with you must never leave this room, do you understand me?” The abrupt shift in mood hits all of them hard.

Still, the vod are nothing if not bred for this very thing. “Anything you say to us will be taken to our pyres, General,” Cody swears.

Casual talk of death has never been a topic Obi-Wan enjoys, especially not in relation to his men, but for the first time there’s no flash of sadness in his expression. If anything, he looks more resolute. “I’m rather hoping we avoid that. In fact, I need you both to live.” He pauses to make careful eye contact with each of them in turn. “Whatever the cost. _Whomever_ the cost.”

The anxiety that spiked in Cody’s blood is quickly making a second attack. Obi-Wan can be direct, even blunt if the need arises, but he never speaks like this. And he would never advocate what he seems to be advocating.

“Cody, I need you to pick your most trusted Lieutenant to lead the attack at Utapau. We can’t appear to be letting Grievous establish a new foothold to attack from, but he is no longer my priority.”

“Tank,” Cody suggests, missing Gregor more than ever. “He’s capable and ready for the responsibility.”

Obi-Wan nods. “I agree. Now,” he takes a breath, visibly preparing himself in a way that fills Cody with dread. “What I must ask of you will not come easy to either of you,” he turns sympathetic eyes on Rex, “especially you, Captain. But for now, in my position as High General of the 3rd Systems Army, I am removing General Skywalker from his command. All matters pertaining to the 501st must now be run past Commander Cody.”

Obi-Wan could’ve declared himself a secret Sith and not had the same impact those words have on the two clones. Cody can see Rex’s loyalty to his General rise like a wave, his already strict posture becoming frozen and stiff in his defense of his commanding officer.

Obi-Wan hastily holds up a hand to forestall any protests. “I do not do this lightly, nor to punish Anakin for any misdoing. Rather, I do it to protect him, and that is where I need your help.”

“Why through me, sir?” Cody asks quietly. “Surely you-”

“I will not be in a position to help you,” Obi-Wan says sadly. “I’m sorry, I can’t tell you more than that at this point. Master Yoda will assume temporary command in my place. You’ll answer to him.”

Cody nods. Rex, always quick to ask ‘why’ does just that. “I’m sorry, General. I don’t understand. How is removing General Skywalker from command helping him?”

“Honestly? I believe it will be more of a stumbling block than an actual hurdle, but I must buy any and all the time that I can. I can promise you that this war will not continue for much longer. For his own safety, Anakin cannot be placed within the temptation of battle. That said, I appreciate that my next request might be your most challenging mission yet.”

Cody finally reaches for his drink. The gesture catches Obi-Wan’s attention and for a moment Cody is trapped within the weight of the General’s fond expression.

“What do you want us to do?” Rex asks.

The moment vanishes. The dread in Cody’s heart turns cold and heavy. “Captain, I want you to stick to Anakin like a vorlap. Do not let him out of your sight for a moment, and most importantly, do not let him take any communication from the Senate.”

The request is so bizarre - and so difficult - that Rex barks out a laugh before realizing that Obi-Wan isn’t joking.

“ _Haar'chak_!”

“Indeed,” Obi-Wan says dryly, waving away Rex’s hasty apologies before focusing on Cody. “Of you, Commander, I must ask the impossible.”

Something in Cody’s heart tells him that the words he says now might form the hinges on which history is balanced. “I am yours to command, General,” Cody says. He’s never been good with words, not ones with meaning at least, but he tries desperately to convey just how much he means them.

Obi-Wan’s answering smile is very kind and very sad. “Dear Cody,” he says, his eyes unnaturally bright in the warm glow of this safe, welcoming space. “While the 212th move on Grievous, I need you to guard Senator Amidala.”

Cody frowns. That’s hardly an impossible task. “Of course, sir,” he says.

Obi-Wan isn’t finished. “In the coming days, many people will want to speak with you. They will want to know how much you know, how much I told you. Forgive me, my friend, but I cannot promise you the Jedi will be able to protect you.”

“I’m sorry, sir, I don’t understand.”

“You will,” Obi-Wan says gently, then presses on. “You must say you know nothing-”

“I _do_ know nothing,” Cody’s frustration is a pale excuse for interrupting his General, but Obi-Wan seems beyond the point of caring.

“And it must stay that way,” he nods. “Rex, I trust you and your brothers to do what you can to protect Commander Cody if the Jedi cannot. _However_ necessary.” He repeats his earlier point with deadly seriousness.

“Of course, sir,” Rex promises, just as confused as Cody.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan says tiredly. He stands and they immediately follow. “Please know that it has been the honor of my life to serve with you these past few years. I couldn’t be prouder. I know that I have placed my trust in the right men.”

Any urge to speak up, to shout that this feels painfully like a goodbye, is quelled by the gentle reminder of their duty. The Negotiator knows, as always, to whom he is speaking.

Cody digs his heels in anyway. “Sir... _Obi-Wan_ ,” he risks the familiarity without fear, “are you alright?”

Obi-Wan reaches over and places a hand on his shoulder. “I am, Cody. Thank you.” He pats the surface of Cody’s shoulder armor and nods his head in a final, decisive way. “Dismissed, gentlemen.”

They obey the order on instinct and find themselves outside of the General’s quarters moments later.

Rex finds his voice first. “Something’s wrong,” he says.

“Something’s wrong,” Cody agrees.

“So? What do we do? He’s talking like he’s about to face a firing squad.”

So Rex understood the farewell, too.

“I don’t know.” Cody feels abruptly cut adrift.

“Skywalker will know,” Rex says decisively.

Cody’s not so sure and is equally unhappy at the thought of being the one to tell the temperamental Jedi that he’s been relieved of duty. There’s no possible way Anakin can know; he’d still be screaming at Obi-Wan now if he did.

“We need to do _something_ ,” Rex pushes when Cody doesn’t answer.

“I need to brief Tank,” Cody deflects. He needs a minute to think. “I’ll meet you at Senator Amidala’s residence in an hour.”

A smile almost cracks the worry on Rex’s face. “You know, too, huh?”

That General Skywalker and Senator Amidala are madly - and hopelessly - in love?

“Everyone knows, vod,” Cody snorts. “The man is as subtle as a gundark in suspenders.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” Rex clasps his forearm and bumps his forehead against Cody’s. “Make your calls. I’ll meet you there. We will get to the bottom of this, I promise.” He tries to sound reassuring. “You know what he’s like. Maybe this is another Rako Hardeen situation?”

“The one where he got shot, faked his own death, drove us all to the brink of insanity, nearly died twice, and then we all had to pretend we didn’t want to lock him in the brig for his own safety once Skywalker found out?”

Rex shrugs a shoulder. “Beats the alternative, right?”

Cody curses under his breath. Right. He never thought he’d live to see _that_ day.

“We’ll protect him this time,” Rex promises, “both of them.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anakin is, officially, an absolute PAIN to write. 
> 
> Unlike Edges or Galaxy Eighty-Six, this story will be told from multiple POVs, so we will be piecing the bigger picture together slowly over time. I promise we will get to everyone/thing! 
> 
> Thank you all for your lovely comments and thoughts, they really make my day!

“Master Kenobi sent you?”

Commander Cody nods. “Yes, ma’am.” He removes his helmet and tucks it under his arm, a concession she knows is made purely for her peace of mind. She likes Cody and his brothers, but the intimidating blankness of their uniforms can be unnerving. 

The arrival of a second Clone Commando to her private residences confirms what Padmé Amidala has long suspected: her marriage to Anakin is no longer a secret known only to the two of them.

Captain Rex turning up shortly after Anakin can be accounted to coincidence, and he’s accepted the excuse given to him with a clone’s diligent loyalty. Anakin and she have worked together numerous times during the war so far; it isn't unheard of for him to visit her at her home instead of her office. As a Jedi, questions over the appropriateness of their meetings simply don’t get asked. There are more rumors about her and Bail - a scandalous secret love affair, him the father of her unborn child - than there will ever be about her and General Skywalker. She hopes.

Another time, any other situation, and she might believe that Commander Cody’s appearance less than an hour later might _also_ be a coincidence. Rex looking for his General, Cody to protect her from yet another threat.

Not this time.

“He knows,” she says softly, a hand resting protectively over the swell of her belly. On the balcony, Anakin holds his heated - but quiet - conversation with his Captain to look up in alarm.

Cody’s face might as well be carved from durasteel. “Ma’am?”

“Padmé?” She loves her husband with all of her heart, but there are times in which a small part of him will always be that little boy she met a lifetime ago. Sometimes, when he calls her name, she can hear it in his voice. He’s still so young, and so much rests upon his shoulders.

“How long?” she asks the Commander.

“Ma’am?” says Cody again. You’d have more luck getting blood from a stone than an answer from a man who has spent the last few years working so closely with Obi-Wan Kenobi.

If he won’t tell her how long Obi-Wan has known, won’t even speculate, he can answer her this: “How long have _you_ known?”

Anakin catches on in a second, worried confusion hardening to something close to anger. He’s never liked people keeping secrets from him, his voice hard and cold as he asks, “Commander Cody?”

Cody’s expression is implacable. “A while, sir,” he says.

Anakin rounds on Rex. “And you?”

She knows the two clones have very different relationships with their respective Generals. They’re two well-matched pairs; Rex and Anakin, Cody and Obi-Wan. Cody, much like his General, is by far the more diplomatic of the two.

“Permission to speak freely?” Rex asks, still the consummate professional. Anakin nods sharply. “You’re not subtle. With respect.”

Padmé knees tremble, a wave of nausea that has nothing to do with her pregnancy creeping up to wrap itself around her throat. Of all the many ways she has feared their secret might come out, the anti-climax of their situation is somehow crueler than the clean-cut of sudden exposure.

Anakin reaches her side in an instant, his strong arm wrapping around her shoulders and guiding her to the closest couch. With the fear of discovery gone, she leans into his warmth and tries to find strength in his presence.

Cody kneels before her, a glass of water held out for her to take. He’s a kind man. They both are. Kind and devoted and, above all things, loyal. Loyal to their Commanding Officers, loyal to the Republic.

Of all the things she has feared should her relationship with Anakin become known, this has always weighed the most heavily. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly. Anakin bristles beside her, so proud and so desperately in love that the idea of apologizing for it is an anathema to him. She touches his wrist and stills his anger with a brush of her fingers. “We never wanted to put anyone in this situation.”

Cody and Rex share a look before Cody clears his throat awkwardly. “There’s no harm done to us, Senator,” he says. “I’d be duty-bound to report the matter to my SO, but,” he makes a stiff little shrug.

She can feel the spike of anxiety rush through her husband as he comes to understand what she’s long suspected.

“Obi-Wan knows?” Anakin can’t see Rex, who is standing behind him, so he misses the dramatic eye roll that suggests it’s not just Obi-Wan and the two clones who have figured it out. Did she give them away, or Anakin? Did they both? Sometimes she worries that her love for him must shine from her face every time she gets to see him.

And Anakin can hardly be called subtle.

Squeezing his hand tightly, she turns further into his embrace, knowing how much he will need the grounding stability of her presence. “I think perhaps he’s always known.”

“No,” Anakin says firmly. “If he knew, I’d’ve been kicked out of the Order years ago. He’s _on the Council._ ”

“With respect, General,” Cody says, rising smoothly to his feet, “but the Captain and I worked it out easy enough, and neither of us raised you.”

Padmé has to hide a small smile. There’s another thing she thinks Cody and Obi-Wan have in common - they are both big brothers who shoulder the responsibility to teach, mentor and nurture their younger siblings. She imagines there have been plenty of infractions that Cody has been privy to that have never reached Obi-Wan’s attention, just as she’s sure Obi-Wan is well aware that his Commander quietly handles many things that don’t require the personal attention of a High General.

Cody will only report his brothers to Obi-Wan for the most serious of situations.

Obi-Wan will only report Anakin to the High Council for the same.

“He would have said something,” Anakin says desperately. “He’s Obi-Wan! He _never_ misses an excuse for a lecture!”

“This goes beyond a lecture, Ani,” Padmé points out. “You’d-”

“Be kicked out of the Order,” Anakin interrupts heatedly. He lets the arm around her shoulders drop and launches himself from the couch to pace like a caged beast. “Maybe that’s not a bad thing!”

She knows he doesn’t mean that. They’ve talked about his teenage doubts as much as they’ve talked about his adult ambitions and she knows that he is made to be a Jedi. Helping people, righting wrongs, it makes up the very fiber of his being.

“If Obi-Wan knows,” she says, “then I don’t think he’s kept quiet just to keep you in the Order.” At his puzzled look, she sighs and marvels again at how naive he can be despite the violence and intrigue he’s constantly surrounded by. “You broke your vows by marrying me,” she says, which they both have understood from the start, “but Anakin, you’re a General and I am a Senator. We’ve both compromised our integrity on behalf of each other. Multiple times. Gods, I traded Grevious’s life for yours and I would do it again a hundred times over-”

“You didn’t have a choice,” he rushes to reassure her. “Padmé, that wasn’t your fault.”

“We’re with the General here, Senator,” Rex injects. “You made the right call.”

“I did,” she agrees, “but I made it for the wrong reasons.” With no consideration to politics, military tactics or diplomacy. Grevious’s continued presence in the war is one of the primary reasons it still continues. She must shoulder the weight of her part in that. She chose her husband’s life over the potential of peace.

“It doesn’t matter what your reasons were-”

“If our marriage - if the _length_ of our marriage - becomes public knowledge, the very best we can hope for is your expulsion from the Order and mine from the Senate. We’re both far more likely to end up on trial.” 

And that’s why Obi-Wan has kept their secret. As soldiers, Rex and Cody are duty-bound to report the infraction to him, and he to the Council. The Council, once in possession of that knowledge, would be in direct violation of their very fragile and deeply complex relationship with the Senate.

Obi-Wan isn’t just protecting Anakin; he’s taking responsibility to contain a secret that, if made public, could create so much chaos and strife within both the Order and the Senate that they’d lose the war.

Anakin’s expression suddenly turns stony. “Why did he send you here?” he demands of Cody and Rex.

The two clones share a look and surprisingly say nothing.

“Commander,” Anakin’s voice is cold in a way it only ever is in combat. She hates it, hates that he has to go to such dark places, and she hates the role she has played in it. “I’m ordering you to answer me!”

There’s a crack in Cody’s pristinely blank expression and for a second it looks like he’d rather face a firing squad than her husband. Then he says, “I’m sorry, sir, but my orders come from General Kenobi.”

“Rex!”

The Captain _almost_ flinches.

Cody answers for him, drawing Anakin’s ire away from his brother. “Forgive me, sir, but General Kenobi’s orders take precedent.”

She’ll give the Commander this: he’s certainly brave. There aren’t many who can look Anakin in the eye and deny him something, not when he’s tiptoeing the fine border between anger and rage.

“He told you to watch us, didn’t he?” Anakin demands before turning to Padmé. “He’s going to tell the Council! He’s going to betray us!”

“No!” Cody exclaims, forgetting himself. “No, sir, he asked us to _protect_ you!”

“Protect me?” Anakin trows an arm out and indicates both the lack of threats in the room and the lightsaber on his belt. His anger makes the air around him heavy and static. “From _what_? Him stabbing me in the back!”

“Anakin!”

Padmé begins to rise from the couch just as her com chimes. She holds up a hand to silence any further argument and is gratified when all three men obediently fall silent. “Senator Organa,” she says, smiling and keeping the conversation professional until she ascertains the reason for Bail’s call, “how are you?”

“Are you safe?” Bail’s voice is tense, almost afraid. Anakin and both clones immediately draw their weapons, scanning for a threat.

“I’m fine,” she is quick to reassure him. “What’s happened? Are you alright?”

A hundred scenarios rush through her mind. First and foremost, to her shame, is the idea that Anakin is _right_ and Obi-Wan has informed the Council. She half expects to hear the footsteps outside her door, their arrest imminent.

What Bail says is a thousand times worse. “The Chancellor has been murdered.”

“ _No_.” Anakin’s whisper is a shard of ice to her heart.

“What happened?” Padmé presses a hand to her mouth, horrified.

“We don’t know yet. We found General Kenobi with him. They’re rushing him back to the Temple; he's in a bad way, we don’t know if he’s going to make it -”

The rest of Bail’s words are lost to chaos as the glass in her hand, the vase on the side table - the _windows -_ suddenly explode.

Anakin was close to hating Obi-Wan, but in the fraction of a moment, the root of his rage sharpens into truth: you can only feel betrayed by someone you trust. Someone you _love_. If Anakin’s anger makes the air static, his grief steals it all from the room.

The world spins on its axis, throwing everything into uncertainty.

She rushes to her husband’s side, desperate to hold him, and wishes with all her heart to go back just a few moments in time, to a place where their biggest worry was keeping their secret.


	4. Chapter 4

Anakin reaches the Temple in record time, leaving his wife and men behind without a second glance.

As his feet hit the familiar, scared grounds of his home, Anakin reaches for Obi-Wan. Stretching out that part of his soul that will always be entwined with his old Master, he feels something flutter weakly, trapped behind a transparisteel wall that Obi-Wan has hastily constructed between them. It’s a fine, fragile thing, one Anakin would never dream of trying to break through, only...

Obi-Wan has promised to never hide away from Anakin again. Not after playing dead. Not after shattering Anakin’s heart so badly he still sometimes cuts himself on the edges when he looks at Obi-Wan. He promised, and Anakin wants so badly to trust him, but...

There’s always a ‘but’ with Obi-Wan.

And here it is, fluttering behind that flimsy-thin wall. Obi-Wan is there, and not.

There have been times in the past - more so when he was younger - when the warm light Obi-Wan refracts from the Force into the physical universe has been the only thing keeping Anakin sane. Obi-Wan is generous, always, and has never hesitated in wrapping that light around Anakin, soothing and protecting him when the dark creeps a little too close for comfort. The older Anakin gets, the harder it is to open himself up to that childish longing. He wants Obi-Wan to respect him as an equal; he can hardly ask for that _and_ for the liberties he was granted as a child.

Obi-Wan hid his Force presence during the Rako Hardeen incident. He’s not doing that now, he’s keeping his promise, but something is different. Something is _wrong_.

His fear only intensifies as he races into the Halls of Healing, only to run headlong into what looks like half the High Council.

It _is_ half the Council. Or perhaps a third. Every member who is on Coruscant. They don’t acknowledge Anakin’s presence. They’re all meditating. Holding a silent vigil lead by Master Yoda, who has never looked so frail or so old in all the years Anakin has known him.

What’s _wrong_ with Obi-Wan to warrant this kind of response?

If brought to the Halls of Healing, there’s a room Obi-Wan is inevitably assigned to. Healer Che refers to it as ‘Obi-Wan’s Room’ in a tone that is as much accusatory as it is amused. It’s one of the smaller rooms, with a long, thin window that looks out into the heart of the Temple. From the bed, it’s possible to see the sweeping doorway that leads to the Headquarters of the AgriCorps. Obi-Wan likes this room, he says, because it always lends him perspective when he most needs it. Anakin’s never understood that but it’s one of Obi-Wan’s many quirks, and he remembers how annoyed he’s always felt when Obi-Wan has not been able to be assigned to that room.

It probably says a bit too much about how often the two of them end up here.

There are jokes, of course there are. Between the Healers and the Padawans conducting their training, between Obi-Wan and Anakin themselves. But no matter the coping mechanisms they have developed, there’s no softening the initial blow of entering this calming, peaceful space, and knowing that someone so very dear is in pain.

Or dying.

Obi-Wan is in there now, just beyond that closed door. A medical droid bars his entry and it costs him everything he has not to cut it in two.

“The Healers are with Master Kenobi now,” the mechanical voice has been programmed to sound soothing, but it scrapes across the exposed nerves of Anakin’s raw fear. “They must not be disturbed.”

The Healers and the Council are _all_ focused on Obi-Wan and the severity of the situation leaves him breathless.

It’s the Sith. He knows it must be. No one else could wound Obi-Wan so badly. No one else could inflict such damage that even Master Yoda isn’t strong enough to hold Obi-Wan tethered to life.

But _why?_ Why was Obi-Wan with the Chancellor? If he knew the risk, why did he go alone? If he _didn’t_ , what was he doing there?

And why send Rex and Cody and Anakin and Padme?

What was Obi-Wan _thinking_?

“You must wait,” the medical droid says again. “Please, take a seat.”

The need to be at Obi-Wan’s side is a bleeding ache in his chest, but the Council’s presence stops him from doing what he wants to do and barging his way inside. He can’t be the reason the Healers are distracted. He can’t be the reason they _lose him_.

So he sits. And he waits. And he screams inside.

Falling into one of the waiting chairs, he catches sight of a familiar face.

Obi-Wan and Quinlan Vos have a relationship unlike anything Anakin has witnessed. His Master seems to get on with everyone - even his enemies seem to respect him - and he’s _always_ polite if a little sarcastic. Vos, by comparison, seems to push a button that even Anakin only manages to hit by accident. He drives Obi-Wan insane, and the feeling has always appeared to be completely mutual. They dislike each other as much as it is possible for two Jedi, and yet Obi-Wan will defend Vos to anyone who speaks against the notoriously rogue Knight, and Vos has been almost as overzealous as Anakin when it comes to protecting Obi-Wan from harm.

It’s a strange, volatile and occasionally hilarious relationship to observe.

And Anakin isn’t surprised in the slightest to see him lurking in the shadows with a scowl on his face.

They meet each other’s gaze across the room and share the smallest of nods, in silent agreement to find whoever did this and _end_ them.

Nobody hurts Obi-Wan and gets to live.

And the Chancellor...

Sometimes he thinks the Chancellor is - was - his only real friend. Obi-Wan is his brother, his father, and the only man who has ever really _earned_ the title of Master in Anakin’s eyes. Rex is... in another life, Rex would be his best friend. In this life, though, Anakin holds the leash that keeps him in shackles; he has no right to impose something as precious as friendship on someone who has no choice in the matter.

But the Chancellor... he’s always listened, always supported, always cared, and Anakin’s heart wants to break at the loss of him. He wants - _needs -_ Obi-Wan’s comfort. Wants to snatch him away from the Temple and take him and Padmé away somewhere where they can be safe, where Anakin can _keep_ them safe.

He wants Padmé beside him, wants her hand in his, wants her strength and assurance as the world collapses around him. He might still lose her, he might still lose Obi-Wan, and he has lost the Chancellor. His heart can’t take this kind of pain, not and keep beating, and he thinks that maybe the Code is _right_. That he might finally understand what Obi-Wan - what all of them - have been trying so patiently to help Anakin understand.

There is no emotion, only peace.

There _is_ emotion, and he _longs_ for peace.

He has to work for it, strive for it, surrender himself to the Force.

But _gods_ , if Obi-Wan dies, Anakin will never know peace again.

Hours pass and the chaos in Anakin’s heart only grows more tumultuous as the harmony of the Halls of Healing comes under fire.

Anakin tries to meditate, tries to join the Council in their vigil, but his attempt only makes them recoil as his turmoil collides with their open hearts. He withdraws, knowing they can do more good for Obi-Wan without him, and flounders in a lonely, desolate place of uncertainty.

Cody and Rex arrive soon after Anakin, taking up defensive positions by the door to Obi-Wan’s room. They both have the stiff, perfect posture of highly trained Commandos, but even with their helmets on, Anakin can feel the fear radiating from both of them. Cody will break if Obi-Wan dies. He’s so strong and so quiet and his only refuge is his General. Anakin can’t be that for him in Obi-Wan’s place. He can’t even look after his own soul, let alone another.

After the two soldiers come Senator Organa, Padmé beside him. Anakin refuses to look at her, knowing that if he does he’ll start crying and won’t be able to stop. They speak softly with one of the medical droids, and then Vos, before leaving as quietly as they arrived.

But the real issue comes in the form of the Senate Guard. They were already present when Anakin arrived, overlooked in his need to reach Obi-Wan as quickly as possible. He might believe that they’re here to keep Obi-Wan safe from the Sith who murdered the Chancellor and attacked Obi-Wan, if not for the way the Temple Guards are squared off against them, matching them poise for poise and refusing them entrance to the main wing.

There’s too much tension there, too much distrust that makes no sense. And then there are the members of the Security Force, who try and fail to repeatedly gain access, demanding to speak to Obi-Wan.

Something is going to give, violently he fears. Everyone is afraid, uncertain, and the only voices of reason and wisdom are silent, locked in a furious battle with death.

Then Master Mundi emits a soft cry of pain, vocalizing the ripple that visibly sweeps through each of the Council in a violent jolt. It’s only when it reaches Master Yoda that it meets its match, dissipating into the Force.

Something’s wrong. Something is desperately wrong.

Furious at himself for his inaction, his lack of focus and his _selfishness_ when Obi-Wan so clearly needs hin, Anakin readies for a battle beyond anything he has previously endured.

He’s his own worst enemy, he knows it, but if he can’t face himself and _win..._

The Council might be able to reach Obi-Wan, they might be able to cling to his fading presence in the Force, but they’ll never be able to bring him back to them, not willingly. And they’ll never force him.

Anakin doesn’t have that worry. Obi-Wan might be exhausted, even broken, by the duty and the burden he’s been carrying, but he _always_ comes when Anakin needs him. No matter how badly hurt, no matter how close to death. 

The Council will plead for his return. Anakin won’t have to.

He slips into his own mind, feels the Force around him, feels how _wrong_ and _pained_ it is, how it screams and bleeds around Obi-Wan’s fading presence. He’s terrified and angry and he _hates_ the Sith with every fiber of his being, but...

There’s that but.

Obi-Wan’s words ring in his mind, a lesson started long ago and carried forward to this day.

_‘A Jedi doesn’t hate those he fights, Anakin. He loves those he protects.’_

The words had smacked of hypocrisy from an Order that forbade attachment, but Anakin still believes what he told Padmé - Jedi are encouraged to love. He’s just never understood how one can equal the other, how a line can be drawn without compromise or weakness.

But he loves Obi-Wan. Saving him is more important than avenging him.

He understands that now, and he lets go.

And the Force is ready to welcome him home.

That comfort and light he associated with Obi-Wan are magnified a billion times over. It’s endless and brilliant and so pure, and instead of feeling as though he is polluting it with his presence, with the choices he’s made and the atrocities he’s committed, he feels cleansed. Purified. The Force knows what he’s done, knows who and what he is, what he’s capable of even now, and it accepts him still. Like Obi-Wan, it seeks only to cherish, to nurture.

He’s finally found the Light, and he weeps within its power, half expecting to feel Obi-Wan’s familiar presence brush against him as it so often does, lit with happiness and pride.

But Obi-Wan isn’t there. He’s a child of the Light, and he’s nowhere to be found.

That wall. That fragile line keeping Anakin from truly sensing him is keeping the Council out as well.

And it’s blocking the Force.

Obi-Wan needs the Force! He’s a Jedi, he needs it. Now Anakin has touched the Light he can’t imagine stepping away from its warmth. How is Obi-Wan willingly cutting himself off?

Anakin finds his presence and presses against that flimsy wall. ‘ _I’m sorry,’_ he thinks ‘ _this is for your own good.’_

And he pushes.

It doesn’t shatter, rather it dissolves like spun sugar in the rain.

The shockwave that follows knocks Anakin to the ground. It throws the Council violently out of their meditation, sends Cody and Rex to their knees, doubles Vos over in pain, and echoes with a scream that strips away the Light and leaves Anakin cold and frightened and alone once more.

_“GET OUT!”_

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin chokes, his face wet with tears and blood streaming from his nose. His head is on fire, the space between him and his brother scorched and smoking. “What did you _do?”_


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's late!
> 
> There's going to be a lot of talk of love in this fic. While it might not all be strictly platonic, it IS all nonsexual. Please feel free to read as much/little into it as you wish!

Rex has spent enough time around Anakin Skywalker to develop a sixth sense for what most of the _vode_ have nicknamed ‘Jedi banthashite’. He _knows_ when his General is about to do something reckless. He _knows_ when a mission is about to get royally kriffed. He doesn’t know _how_ he knows - sometimes he doesn’t even know _what_ he knows - just that he does. It’s instinctive. Ashoka often tries to convince him that it’s the Force and that’s a pretty idea, but it’s not for the likes of him and his brothers.

Still. He _knows_. He knows that there is something painfully, desperately wrong unfolding in the Halls of Healing. He sees it in the kneeling Jedi Council, hears it in Anakin’s furious, frightened voice. He feels it in the part of his soul that he shares with Cody. His _ori’vod_ has always had a connection to Obi-Wan that goes beyond the chain of command. Cody loves Obi-Wan more than any other being in the galaxy and Obi-Wan loves Cody in the only way his Code allows. If Rex knows _things_ , Cody knows Obi-Wan. It’s just not like Anakin and Senator Amidala, or like Obi-Wan and poor Dutchess Satine.

Or maybe it is like Satine? Rex has never had the courage to ask.

There’s fear in his brother’s eyes, fear that is only ever present when Obi-Wan is hurt, and it’s that fear that propels Rex back to his feet when a wave of energy knocks them both to the ground. He’s almost knocked off his feet again, this time by Anakin as he charges into Obi-Wan's room, blood smeared across his face.

Rex feels helpless. And oh, how he kriffing hates it.

This is what he was trying to prepare them for.

Rex can handle difficult missions, handle the danger and beat all the odds in the process, but he needs a kriffing enemy to _fight_.

Anakin storms though the doorway, bypassing Healer Che’s call of warning and throwing himself down at Obi-Wan’s side. Cody’s only seconds behind him, a different kind of energy clinging to his brother’s tense shoulders.

Cursing, Rex follows them into the commotion.

Healer Che is supported by two other Healers and three medical droids. Taking that kind of medical firepower into a battle tells Rex how bad things are before he even sees Obi-Wan. But _gods_ , when he does.

Rex is probably one of the very few men alive who has been allowed to see Obi-Wan vulnerable. Zygerria was... Rex still has nightmares. Still remembers how it felt only weeks later, looking at the grief and horror written in Cody’s eyes when the news of Obi-Wan’s death reached them and knowing that if he’d protected Obi-Wan better on that Sith-forsaken planet he’d never have been so hurt and off-balance to be killed by a mere kriffing _bounty hunter._

He’s seen the General hurt. Horribly. Horrifically. But he’s never seen _this_.

This is no battlefield triage. The room doesn’t smell of blood and vomit and tears. The air is clean and sweet. Everything is neat and tidy, unspoiled, and Obi-Wan rests on the comfortable medical cot, dressed in white and tucked under a crisp blanket. His copper hair is damp, but still neat, his beard too, and Rex can see the freckles that form a constellation on his neck. The pattern is distorted now, fragile skin scorched by burns that look old, but that Rex knows for a fact weren’t there mere hours ago. They crawl down his forehead, across his cheeks and wrap around his throat before vanishing beneath the collar of his tunic. His bare arms - a rare sight for a man always swaddled in his thick robes - are equally as marked, his skin mottled and vividly bruised, purple and blue and black in all the delicate places where joints meet. It looks like he’s been struck by lightning. A _lot_ of lighting.

Anakin had suffered similar burns after his fight with Dooku - similar, but not nearly as severe.

“Obi-Wan.” Anakin’s horror is palpable, a vivid, heavy thing that stretches out across the room, twisted and entwined with anger and so much hate. “What did they do to you?” He reaches up to brush a curling strand of hair from Obi-Wan’s brow, then hesitates, almost afraid to touch him. The hesitation only lasts a moment, and then he’s smoothing Obi-Wan’s hair and taking hold of his hand, cradling it between his own. “Who did this?” The demand is breathless, tears of heartbroken fury rolling down his cheeks.

“The Sith,” General Windu and General Yoda move into the small room, nodding at the desolate and confused Healers, who hold back and wait, watching with careful eyes over their wounded charge.

Anakin’s lip curls back. “Send me to kill him,” he demands. “Let me do what I’m _supposed_ to do.”

“Dead he already is,” Yoda says, his ears downturned. There’s something close to longing in his ancient eyes, something Rex doesn’t know him nearly well enough to understand. “Defeated him, Obi-Wan did. No more, the Sith are.”

He can’t keep up with the race of emotions that Anakin rushes through, each one desperate and ugly and hurt. Anakin turns back to his Master, clinging tightly to his limp hand. “I should’ve been with you,” he snarls. “We were supposed to do this _together_.”

That’s not how Rex has heard it. _Anakin_ is the Chosen One. _Anakin_ is supposed to bring balance. There’s never been any mention of Obi-Wan’s involvement. Everything Rex has seen Obi-Wan do has been to prepare his Padawan to stand alone. He's been resolute, steadfast and calm in a way that only comes when a man has accepted the inevitability of his own death. Obi-Wan knows he’s not meant to be at Anakin’s side when the final battle cry is called.

And he knew _this_ was coming.

But if the Sith are gone then what final battle is Anakin supposed to face alone? The one that ends the war? What war will there be now both sides are leaderless? Will Grievous really be the force that drives them back into the darkness?

Not if Rex can help it.

Besides him, Cody trembles. Rex shifts, presses their arms together and tries to be the wall of strength his brother has always been for him.

They’re made for the Jedi. Born and bred.

And the likes of them? Of Cody and Rex and Bly and Wolffe? They’re made to die at their Jedi’s side.

First.

They’re made to die _first_.

“Will he wake up?” He’s not surprised to hear his brother’s voice, nor is he surprised by how calm and steady it sounds. Cody is the foundation on which the _vode_ are built. Even when he’s falling apart, they know they can turn to him. They know he’s strong enough to shoulder the extra weight, time and time and time again.

He and Obi-Wan really are the perfect match. Quiet, reserved, and steady enough to build an army on the back of.

They won’t survive losing one of them. They _can’t_ survive losing both.

“I can feel him,” Anakin says softly. “He’s still here.”

“Gave himself, he did,” Yoda says mournfully. “Gave everything.”

“I can _feel_ him, Master,” Anakin protests. “He’s... he’s not _lost_. He just needs to know it’s safe. That he can come back.”

Rex doesn’t know how to even start with that. Position the entire 501st around the Temple? Let Anakin barricade both of them in the Force? Promise him that they’ll protect him this time? That he’s not alone? Find the Sith he killed and piss on its burnt ashes?

He likes that one. Two birds, one big kriffing stone.

“Can’t you feel it, Anakin?” Healer Che approaches cautiously to perch on the edge of the cot. “He _is_ safe now. He’s one with the Force.”

_One with the Force._ That’s what they say about Jedi who _die_.

Cody makes a choked, broken sound and Rex stops giving a kriff about protocol or duty. He wraps an arm around his brother’s shoulders and holds him steady.

Anakin pushes himself to his feet, Obi-Wan’s hand falling limply to his side. “He’s breathing! Look at him! He’s alive! You can’t _abandon_ him!”

“No one is abandoning him!” Windu thunders. “For once in your life, Skywalker, _feel_ _him._ ”

As much as Rex wishes he could understand what’s happening between Obi-Wan and Anakin as the latter closes his eyes and seems to sink into the space he occupies, a large part of himself is relieved. Whatever Anakin finds, whatever he sees, draws a wail of anguish so powerful it shakes the world around them.

He thinks Cody might not be breathing, thinks anything that can bring such sorrow to Master Yoda’s ancient face and such resignation from Healer Che must be the worst thing in the Galaxy.

“What did you _do?_ ” Anakin sobs, and Rex can’t help his own tears - for his friend, for his brother, for _himself_ , and gods, for poor Obi-Wan.

“Ready, he was not,” Yoda sighs. “Strong enough, he was not. But love you, Skywalker, he does.”

Anakin shakes his head hopelessly. “I don’t understand.”

And that makes at least two of them. “Breathe, _ori’vod_ ,” he whispers against Cody’s ear. “Please.”

Cody nods because Cody will always force himself to be strong for Rex, but the breath he takes is gasping and pained.

“Gave himself, Obi-Wan did. To the Force. Let it fill him. Strengthen him. Consume him.”

“Infinite energy in a finite form,” Healer Che says gently. “We aren’t built to contain that much power, Light _or_ Dark.

“I could’ve,” Anakin chokes. “I _could’ve_.”

“Would you have given it up once you’d killed the Sith?” Windu demands.

Rex isn’t the only one who looks at him in shock.

“How can you ask me that?” Anakin cries. “Is that what you thought? Is that what _he_ thought?” The look he turns back on Obi-Wan is one of crippling hurt and profound betrayal. As though he’d _not_ accused Obi-Wan of betraying _him_ just hours before.

No, Rex realizes. Obi-Wan _doesn’t_ trust Anakin. He loves him. He would die for him - and worse, for a Jedi, he would _kill for_ him. But he doesn’t trust him.

And Rex... gods forgive him, but Rex understands why.

“ _Who_ was it?” Anakin demands again. He takes Obi-Wan’s hand, pressing it against his chest, and moves gloved, cybernetic fingers over his Master’s hair with a tenderness that many would find hard to believe him capable of. “Who turned him against me? Who _did_ this to him? Who did we miss?” Those fingers move delicately across lightning bolt scars, agony twisted in his face.

“Search your feelings, young one.” Master Yoda says those words often, but Rex has never heard them sound so heavy.

For once, Anakin seems to listen. He looks away, his eyes lost, but whatever answer he finds out in the mystical wonders of the Force is lost when the door to the room opens again and a flood of armed Security Force officers storm the room.

One of them steps out from among the rest, tall and imposing and _cold._ "Commander Cody? We have a warrant for your arrest."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think maybe I need to make updates a Monday thing! I keep napping my Sunday's away! 
> 
> Have some Cody POV! Oh, and someone might be waking up...
> 
> Someone give Cody a hug? Please?

They come under the authority of Acting Chancellor Mas Amedda, citing powers and authorities that turn the assembled Jedi into a momentarily stunned silence.

The officer closest to Cody raises his hand, a pair of standard-issue cuffs dangling in his grasp. Cody doesn’t plan on fighting them. How can he? He’s a good soldier. Here to follow orders and protect his Jedi. He’s failed so miserably at the latter, it’s the least he can do to adhere to the former. To make his General proud.

Only... only Obi-Wan warned them, didn’t he? Or he tried to and Cody was just too inept to see it. He warned them and then made Rex swear to protect Cody from the fallout.

He can see his _vod_ tensing, his dark eyes flickering from target to target as he does what he can do better than anyone else in the GAR. He knows that Rex will already have formulated a way to extract Cody from the situation, and he knows that doing so will land a target on his brother’s back just as surely as one is now on his own.

He can’t let that happen.

“Stand down, Captain,” he orders sharply. Rex hasn’t even moved yet but his gaze narrows.

Before he can speak, Skywalker is a physical presence between Cody and the Guard.

Cody’s order to Rex now means nothing to the Captain, who will always put protecting his General above _every_ order, no matter the cost to himself.

In a matter of a heartbeat, Cody finds himself behind Skywalker and Rex, and more surprisingly, behind Generals Windu and Yoda as well. The presence of the Council putting themselves in harm’s way triggers an instant and unified response from the Temple Guard, their glowing yellow lightsabers bathing the room in a warm but eerie light.

It’s clear the Security Force has no idea how to handle things, fear of escalation in their expressions as they look to one another, waiting for someone to take command. Cody’s as confused as they are. He’s a clone, a defective one who has failed his General, and he’s not worth _this_.

It’s Mace Windu who speaks first. “Under what authority do you come to this scared space with the intention of arresting one of our most decorated Clone Commanders?” he demands, his usually dominating presence sharpened to an almost wild edge. Cody’s seen and fought some of the worst beings in the galaxy and he’s still not sure he could stand in the focus of that much raw power and authority and not feel like a shiny straight out the tube.

“The Chancellor is-”

“Dead,” Windu snaps, “and unlikely to be issuing arrest warrants.”

“Murdered,” one of the officers says coldly. “By Master Kenobi.”

Skywalker recoils. “What? No!”

The officer turns with a blank expression. “I’ve seen the security footage, Master Jedi. Acting Chancellor Amedda recognizes Jedi sovereignty, though hopes you will have the grace and sense to turn the traitor over to the Senate for an impartial trial. CC-2224, however, belongs to the Republic. As the closest serving officer to General Kenobi, the Senate has every right to bring him in for interrogation. You _will_ hand him over.”

“A _Sith_ killed the Chancellor!” Anakin shouts, throwing his arm out and pointing at Obi-Wan, “and a Sith did that to my Master! And if you think we're just going to _give_ Cody to you-”

How many times has Cody seen to Obi-Wan’s wounds after one encounter with a Sith or other? Every time that oppressive darkness would leave deeper scars. Maul, Oppress, Ventress, Dooku... all apprentices in one way or another. All who fought Obi-Wan and lost, all who left their marks on him in ways bacta could never heal. And this one was the _Master_.

“There were only two people in the room, Master Jedi. The Chancellor, and Master Kenobi.”

“Sith can hide themselves, right?” Rex asks Anakin. He gets no answer. Instead, something is happening behind the mask of anger and fear that twists Anakin’s face. For a moment Cody can see only a very young, very frightened child before grief and betrayal collide with an explosion of horror behind his bright eyes. “Maybe they were...invisible?” He’s grasping for explanations, aware of how far fetched they might be but desperate enough to try.

Rex can’t process the idea of Obi-Wan killing the Chancellor.

He doesn’t know Obi-Wan like Cody does.

There’s _nothing_ Obi-Wan is incapable of doing if he feels its the right thing to do.

So Cody believes them when they say that Obi-Wan killed the Chancellor, and he believes them when they say that they were the only two people present.

He believes Anakin when he says that only a Sith could inflict so much damage in the process.

It stands to reason then that Chancellor Palpatine is the Sith they’ve been looking for all along.

Which means... it means a lot of things. Things Cody isn’t even slightly equipped to process.

There’s movement. He’s zoned out, an unforgivable sin on the battlefield and an even worse crime when standing guard over his helpless General.

And then the Security Forces and the Senate Guard all begin to choke. One by one they clutch at their throats, trying to pry at the constriction that is slowly, deliberately, stealing the air from their lungs.

“Skywalker!” Windu thunders.

Anakin scrambles back, his hands held up innocently. “It’s not me! It’s-” he spins, his eyes widening. To Cody, Obi-Wan looks no different; pale and lifeless and still. To Anakin and the other Jedi, _something_ is happening. Anakin rushes forwards. “Master! Master! Obi-Wan! Let them go. They’re not here to hurt you. They aren’t going to take Cody. I won’t let them. I promise. I _promise_ I’ll protect you - _both_ of you. You don’t want to hurt them...”

Frightened, one of the choking officers scrambles for his blaster. The weapon is ripped out of his hands before he gets the chance to fire it, skidding across the floor and under the bed.

Where Anakin fails, Windu meets even less success. “Obi-Wan, enough!”

Rex grabs Cody’s arm and drags him close, taking advantage of the chaos to pull him out of the line of fire should one of them be able to get off a shot. His _vod’s_ protective instincts do him credit, but Cody is more worried about Obi-Wan. If this _is_ his doing then he’ll never forgive himself.

Windu takes a step forward. Or ties to. His eyes widen when he realizes he can’t.

_What is Obi-Wan doing?_

“Calm yourself, young one.” Master Yoda’s soothing voice cuts across the unraveling chaos in Cody’s mind. “Reassure him you must.”

Cody has no idea how he’s going to succeed when Anakin has failed. He doesn’t even think he’ll be allowed to approach when Windu is being held at length. Rex makes an aborted, ill aimed attempt to hold Cody back, only to be thrown across the room and into the flailing, struggling Security Forces.

Sharp focus snaps Cody out of his daze. If he doesn’t stop this, someone is going to get killed. If that line is crossed, there’s no telling what will befall the Jedi.

He just... doesn’t know what to do. The General is his closest friend, the only nat-born he’ll ever actively seek out to spend any time with, and they’re close, both as brothers in arms and companions, but their physical contact is limited and its rare Cody ever reaches out to Obi-Wan first. The Jedi is his commanding officer; Cody admires and respects him far too much to assume informalities unless given a hand-inscribed invitation. Obi-wan has always set both the tone and pace for their relationship off the battlefield and Cody... well, Cody is not as good at social interaction as he’d like to be. He shares all of Obi-Wan’s fondness for rules and regulations and order and possesses none of the charm that makes this an endearing trait instead of an annoying one.

His _vode_ tease him. Even Rex. Cody’s good with war, not with people, and this victory isn’t one he can secure by shooting something.

Kriffing hells, this is a disaster.

“General?” He’s not fiddling with his bracers like a shiny, but running his fingers around the edges of the hard shell is calming in a way few things are. The lightening scars covering Obi-Wan’s pale form inspire visions of a fight beyond anything he’s witnessed before, unmatched power and frightening intensity. He’s seen Obi-Wan fight Sith. He doesn’t think anyone has seen something like _this_. He’s still not even sure he understands what has happened. Only that Obi-Wan is here, vulnerable and... and maybe scared? Is that why he’s lashing out? He’s afraid.

Cody is Obi-Wan’s. He tried to warn them. He said something like this might happen, that the Jedi wouldn’t be able to protect him, that _he_ wouldn’t be able to protect him. But Obi-Wan is still trying. On the verge of death, his soul beyond the grasps of the most powerful beings on the planet, he’s still watching Cody’s back.

He doesn’t need to say anything. Words are Obi-Wan’s thing, not his. His weapon, his armor. Cody doesn’t need them.

Taking a careful, tentative seat on the edge of the bed, Cody reaches up and lifts Obi-Wan’s hand. He doesn’t lace their fingers together, rather he clasps Obi-Wan’s forearm and uses his other hand to curl stiff, bruised fingers around his own. It’s a greeting the _vode_ has claimed, one Obi-Wan will recognize anywhere, even if he doesn’t recognize Cody.

Maybe he does, maybe he doesn’t? Cody doesn’t know enough of the Force to seek out the answers. All he can do is make things as easy as possible and light the path home with the familiarity of the men who love him most in the galaxy.

The 212th are Obi-Wan’s men. They are his family. At that moment, Cody is all of them. Every brother who owes Obi-Wan their life, every frightened _vod’ika_ who has found strength in their General’s unflinching courage and quiet compassion, every frustrated _ori’vod_ who has wanted to wring his stubborn Jedi neck when he’s recklessly endangered his own life. Cody is them all. All of their respect, all of their admiration, all of their love.

Cody can’t reach out to him through the Force, so he does what he always does and waits for Obi-Wan to come to him.

He pays no attention to the Security Forces who slowly climb back to their feet, shaking and coughing but free of the painful choking grasp of power. He ignores Mace Windu putting himself bodily between Anakin and Cody, a hand on his chest, buying Cody precious seconds of peace.

He ignores the world and just waits.

When Obi-Wan’s eyes finally start to flicker, he holds his breath, not letting go for a moment.

He waits for familiar blue eyes, the calming center of his universe, and can’t help but flinch at what he finds.

Obi-Wan’s eyes are still blue, but there is nothing calming about them.

The lightening that has left such painful-looking scars across Obi-Wan’s body now flashes and flickers in his eyes. They’re changed, marked by the power he’s allowed himself to be consumed by, no longer warm and kind but cold, distant and terrible.

He knows a Sith’s eyes turn yellow when under the thrall of the Dark Side, but this? He doesn’t know what this is.

He doesn’t think any of them know what this is.

And all he can do is echo Anakin’s pained cry. “What did you _do_?”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Anakin goes on a complete rollercoaster of emotions, Obi-Wan wakes up, and very little makes sense. 
> 
> When I said this one is a slow burn I really, really meant it. I've got maybe 80k written and it's not even halfway through...

“What did you do?” Cody sees it, too. Whatever it was that Anakin felt, Cody can see it, and the Marshal Commander - the highest-ranking clone in the GAR, the man with a sabacc face to beat Mace’s - all but crumples at the bedside, utter devastation in his eyes.

Rex struggles to his feet and plants himself firmly at his brother’s side, a faint grimace in his expression that tells Anakin he’s in pain, but hiding it. It also tells Anakin more than anything else has since coming here.

Confused, scared, and _maybe_ Anakin could buy Obi-Wan lashing out at the Security Forces, especially with Cody being threatened. But hurting Rex? Hurting _any_ of his men? Obi-Wan would die first.

Just like he’d die before hurting the Chancellor.

Obi-Wan dislikes Palpatine and makes no claim otherwise, but _kriff_ , he’d faked his own death, traumatized his own men and nearly let Anakin _murder_ him all for the pretense that would save the man’s life. Because Obi-Wan would do that for anyone, no matter their rank or status. And he’d do it for Anakin. 

Obi-Wan sits up, unflinching when Cody recoils back against Rex’s side.

A sob claws its way up Anakin’s throat, the haunted shell of his broken heart making a bid for freedom in the face of such unrelenting pain.

Obi-Wan’s eyes flash and flicker with lightning, inhuman and unblinking in a face that’s stripped of even the faintest of microexpressions. Anakin _knows_ every look in Obi-Wan’s arsenal and this isn’t even the look he wears when trying not to show anyone how mad he is. There’s simply nothing there.

This... this thing... is wearing his Master like a _shell_. Everything Obi-Wan has burned away.

And if it thinks it’s _safe_ , if it thinks that wearing Obi-Wan’s face will somehow save it from Anakin’s rage...

“You’re angry.” Obi-Wan’s voice, clear, clipped Coruscanti accent, dulled into something bland and flat. “Always so angry. He worried about you.”

 _“You_ should be worried about me,” Anakin snarls. His fingers itch for the weight of his saber and it’s hard to think through the rage that clouds his vision. “What did you do to him?”

Obi-Wan’s face tilts in confusion, the same way Threepo moves when trying to process information he doesn’t yet have a reference for. “He needed my help. He wasn’t strong enough to kill the Sith. He didn’t know he would die, not at first, but he welcomed it in the end. He wanted peace. I gave it to him until you tried to call him back. Now...” the lightening in his eyes flickers as he looks around the room, “I don’t know where he is.”

“Who the _kriff_ are you?” It’s Cody who asks, and Cody who wins the first _almost_ smile from the imposter’s frighteningly blank face.

“I’m Obi-Wan.”

“You just said Obi-Wan is gone.” Rex’s furious voice catches on that final word, angry tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.

“Not gone. _Gone_.”

“Yeah,” Rex scoffs, “that makes sense.”

“Speak to Obi-Wan, might we?” Master Yoda moves forward slowly, leaning so heavily on his crutch that Anakin _prays_ he’s playing up for appearances.

“Master,” Obi-Wan turns his head towards the small Grand Master. “You’re speaking to him now. I am the Obi-Wan he always wanted to be. The Obi-Wan _you_ always wanted him to be.”

Yoda’s ears twitch, the whole room in breathless silence as they watch - and wait - for _something._

 _“_ Know that is not true, you do. Is as he is meant to be, not change him we would.”

“He thought that,” Obi-Wan’s head nods in agreement. He’s made no move to leave the bed, but Anakin’s whole body is coiled for a fight. The _second_ he moves... “I know better.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mace demands. He might despise Anakin, but Obi-Wan is probably as close to a friend as Windu has.

“There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony.” Anakin has heard those words, recited in Obi-Wan’s voice, so many times in his life. It’s never once sounded like this. His Master always made the Code sound like something to always aspire to. This is less an aspiration than it is a threat.

“Know the Code, do we,” Yoda says sternly. “Know it too, does young Obi-Wan.”

“ _Crave it_ ,” Obi-Wan’s voice corrects. “Always striving, always falling short.”

“That is what it is to be a Jedi,” Mace growls. “It is the journey, not the destination.”

Obi-Wan said that a lot too.

Obi-Wan is a kriffing hypocrite. Like Anakin doesn't see the need for perfection in his former Master. Like he doesn't see how very badly he falls short of those standards.

“The Code is supposed to bring balance. He's twisted it until it only brings pain.”

How kriffing _dare_ he? Anakin is Obi-Wan’s Padawan, now and always. _He’s_ allowed to think those things, but no one else has earned the kriffing right. “Obi-Wan Kenobi is a great Jedi,” he growls, knowing this is the only possible situation in which he’d ever dream of saying those words to his Master and...

... and that’s wrong, isn’t it? Why does he resent the idea of telling Obi-Wan how good he is? Because Obi-Wan rarely tells him the same? If pettiness is something he hates in his Master then surely he should rise above it. Be better. Out of spite, if nothing else.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi was a tool,” the imposter says. “He didn’t see it until he let me in. Perhaps that’s why he was so eager to leave...” he looks puzzled for a moment. “If it is a tool you require, I am more useful. I do not share his weaknesses.”

“Our friend, he is,” Yoda corrects. “A tool, no Jedi is. Servant, yes. Caretaker. Peacekeeper-”

“Weapon and shield,” Obi-Wan’s voice doesn’t waver. “A child left unclaimed and unwanted, used only as a tool to return a falling Jedi back to the Light, cast aside when no longer required. A young man in his grief, his future traded for the task of raising The Chosen One. A shield between the Republic and its enemies. A weapon wielded against the Sith. A boy, abandoned by his family. A teen held responsible for his Master’s darkness. A friend shunned in his time of need. A General, betrayed by his troops. A Master, broken by his apprentice.”

“You saw this?” It’s Mace that asks, and Yoda who seems to diminish before their eyes.

That’s not what Obi-Wan thinks, is it?

 _Kriff_... that’s not what _happened?_

“We would never betray our General!” Rex cries in outrage a moment before his hand creeps up to brush over the back of his head. Fear uncurls in his brave Captain’s eyes as he wraps an arm fully around Cody and holds him back as much as he holds him close.

Rex’s cry should be followed by Anakin’s, but he hesitates.

He can’t _break_ Obi-Wan. His Master has been tortured _repeatedly_ by Sith and never wavered. Anakin doesn’t have that power. To have it, Obi-Wan would have to love him.

Obi-Wan didn’t even _want_ him. The imposter has said as much. Anakin stole Obi-Wan’s future.

But if that’s right, if he believes it, then he has to believe the rest of it.

He would _never._

He would never hurt Obi-Wan.

He would never...

“Now you won’t have a chance to,” Obi-Wan promises Rex. “He wanted to protect you; I will honor that wish. I'm sorry I hurt you; it was not my intention. He would never allow any harm to come to you or your brothers."

“That’s real generous of you,” Anakin spits the venom in his heart at the man who wears Obi-Wan’s face and hates that it doesn’t make him feel any better at all. “Let me guess, he _wanted_ to kill the Chancellor as well. No, wait, that’s you. You used him. You took advantage of -”

“He didn’t want to kill anyone,” Obi-Wan interrupts. “He only wanted to save you.”

“Me?” Anakin starts to laugh. “What possible threat could the Chancellor be to me? He’s my oldest friend, he’s-”

“Groomed you from the day he met you, the Sith Lord did,” Yoda says sadly. “Fed you lies, sowed seeds of mistrust, of hate. Protect you from his abuse, we did not. Fail you, we did. Seek to protect you, your Master did.”

Anakin recoils in disgust, unable to believe that the highest echelons of the Jedi, the people who Anakin looks up to and trusts the most, are saying such... such _vile_ things about a man who has only ever been kind to Anakin. Who has always believed in him, even when Obi-Wan...

He knows the Council hate the Chancellor. He knows the Chancellor feared that they craved more power, more control, more...

“Why did Obi-Wan need _you_ to kill an unarmed man?” Anakin demands. Obi-Wan, of all people, has _always_ tried to shun power. 

Obi-Wan’s face doesn’t smile, but somehow Anakin can see it in his mind’s eye; that wry little half-smirk his Master would adopt when Anakin would finally start asking the _right_ questions. “Why indeed?”

“You didn’t do that to him did you?” Anakin takes a step closer, his hand no longer itching for his lightsaber, but outstretched. “These burns. They’re from a Sith.” Anakin has his own thanks to Dooku. “You’re not a Sith. You don’t feel dark.”

He feels the opposite. Anakin has looked into the darkness and knows its touch. Looking too hard at Obi-Wan is like staring at the heart of a star. There’s Light. Nothing but Light. But it hurts. And it burns. And it can only sustain life at a distance. Too close, and...

He touches Obi-Wan’s bare arm and runs his fingers over the smooth lines of lightening etched into his skin. To be this bad, to go so deep, to cover so much of him... why didn’t Anakin feel it? How much pain was Obi-Wan in? How long did he suffer before giving himself over to this _being_?

“What _are_ you?”

“I’m someone you might pick first.”

What the _kriff_ is that supposed to mean?

Obi-Wan answers him as though he’s spoken the words aloud. “You would never have chosen him. You would never have chosen a middling, disappointing, weak Master over the power and promise of the Dark Side. He would never be able to draw you back to the Light. I can.”

“Obi-Wan wasn’t _weak_ ,” Anakin chokes. “Isn’t! He _isn’t_ weak.”

“He’s no Qui-Gon Jinn.” There’s no force behind the words - his own words - but Anakin reels as though caught on the edge of an explosion. He knows Obi-Wan had been hurt by his cruelty then, he’d not been able to hide it, but he let them go without reprimand and has never once mentioned them since. He can’t possibly think that Anakin _meant_ them. Not now, not after everything they’ve been through.

He can’t...

“You know everything about him?” Anakin demands, his entire world hinging on one question.

Obi-Wan inclines his head. “There is no ignorance, only-”

“Yeah yeah. Okay, answer me this: when he faked his death during the whole Rako Hardeen debacle, how did he think I’d react?”

“He knew you’d be angry,” the imposter says without hesitation. “And he understood that you would mourn the loss of someone you were close to.”

“Mourn,” Anakin says bitterly. “Did he know it’d break my kriffing heart? Did he know it would _destroy_ me?”

No hesitation. No lie. “No.”

Angry tears roll down Anakin’s cheeks as he finally starts to understand. The holo is coming into focus and he’s missed so much. “Why not?”

There’s the slightest indent between Obi-Wan’s brow, as though he’s not sure why Anakin is asking what he must consider being an obvious question. “Because you must love something in order to feel pain at losing it.”

_He doesn’t care. He doesn’t trust you. He doesn’t respect you. He is jealous. He holds you back. He resents you._

All words said to him by the Chancellor. About Obi-Wan.

By a _Sith_. About _his Master._

All he has ever wanted is his Master’s love. Apparently, he always had it.

And now he sees it, Obi-Wan is gone.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should've updated this yesterday! Whoops, sorry!

The Republic is in chaos. The Senate, too. The Senate more so, really. Not so much because Palpatine is dead. There are contingencies for the death of a Supreme Chancellor that have held strong for hundreds of years.

No, the problem they’re facing right now is both extremely simple and significantly nuanced.

It’s one thing to know in your bones that the institute you serve is corrupt, and something else entirely to be presented with the irrefutable evidence of said corruption in the form of a lightning-wielding, lightsaber-brandishing Sith Lord’s entrails splattered across the Senate floor.

There have been conflicting reports; Palpatine was murdered while he was alone in his office; Palpatine engaged in bloody mortal combat with a Jedi Master right in the heart of Democracy. It’s entirely possible both hold an element of truth, and with the Delegation of 2000 leading the cry of answers, it can only be obscured for so long.

One element does remain consistent, though, and it’s that which has caused most of the chaos.

Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Bail once said that the death of Obi-Wan would be the death of the Republic. He stands by that statement - feared greatly the weight of prophecy that seemed to hang on the words - but gods, this is...

It’s unprecedented.

Obi-Wan is a divisive figure in the Senate, simultaneously playing the part of the charismatic hero and a detached, aloof cog in a deeply unpopular machine of war. Bail, who knows him better than most save perhaps Padme, has no doubts as to Obi-Wan’s motives.

Even in the grips of combat, Obi-Wan is _famous_ for his need to always seek out a peaceful resolution. The combat style that has made him an instantly recognizable figure on the battlefield is built on the sole purpose of defense and de-escalation, and more than that... Obi-Wan is a gentle soul. Infuriatingly stubborn and at times utterly thickheaded, but there’s not a self-serving bone in his body.

If he marches into the Senate and says the Supreme Chancellor needs to die, Bail’s first instinct is always going to be to pull the trigger and _then_ ask why. Obi-Wan has earned that trust, reckless though it might be.

Of course, he did so in the most dramatic way possible, and there were Sith involved then too.

“The Jedi must turn Kenobi over for trial!” Acting Chancellor Mas Amedda has a very narrow window in which to maintain his authority. Under the emergency measures put in place by his predecessor, Amedda has the legal right to delay a new election for ninety days. Perhaps, under different circumstances, he might be able to enforce that law, but the Delegation of 2000 has almost doubled in size in the space of eight hours, their small but vocal minority quickly gaining a larger platform to speak from.

“There must be an independent investigation,” Mon Motha demands, her calm, reasonable voice ringing out as clear as a bell. “The Jedi have fallen under Republic jurisdiction for centuries now; let us pursue the proper lines of inquiry before jumping headfirst into a legal battle with our loyal servants.”

“Loyal?!” Novo Faris has never been one of Bail’s favorite individuals and he cements his status as a spineless, scaremongering and sycophantic with a loud, dramatic wail. “The Jedi have long sought to consolidate power within the Senate, and we have given them the tools to do so! First, we give them an army, then they fail to do their duty and bring peace. Now they have assassinated our beloved Chancellor just days before we were about to secure an end to this pointless conflict!”

“We don’t yet know what happened,” Bail cuts in, attempting to be the voice of reason as a hundred others rise up in collective outrage.

Many speak on behalf of the Jedi.

Many more do not.

The war has been kind to few and the Jedi have not escaped unscathed. The guardians of the peace are now seen as little more than warmongerers by people blinded by their own role in the misery that has beset the Galaxy.

“We know enough!” Amedda cuts in. “Which is why members of the Security Force have been sent with a warrant for Master Kenobi’s arrest. The Order _must_ hand him over to face justice.”

“And if they don’t?” Faris shouts. “What then? We have allowed the Jedi too much power! What control do we have? We _must_ act decisively. Kenobi is a member of the Jedi High Council. The entire Order is culpable for his actions and the _entire_ Order must be-”

“What?” Bail snaps exasperatedly. “Punished? You really wish to wage a war against the Jedi when there is a far more urgent matter at hand?”

Amedda’s scowl becomes grows sickly. “And what, Esteemed Senator, is that?”

Bail is a career politician and has been dealing with men like Mas Amedda his entire working life; it never gets easier. “Rumors that Chancellor Palpatine was the orchestrator of the Clone Wars and was in league with Count Dooku to extend the conflict in order to further his powers, and the powers of those around him. Men like yourself, Esteemed Senator.” He keeps his smile civil, seeks it reflected on Mon’s face, and takes an ungenerous amount of pleasure in watching Amedda turn green with anger.

He’s not usually so bold, but then this is an unprecedented situation; boldness is the only course of action. He carefully doesn’t use the word ‘Sith’, knowing that to do so would be showing his hand far more intimately in support of the Jedi than he can currently afford.

The Senate floor erupts at his claims, Karz Nel standing and raising his hands in demand for sense as thousands of Senators loudly clamor for the floor.

“Order! Order! Senator Organa, you seek to slander a man with no single shred of evidence to wrongdoing?”

“I seek nothing,” Bail raises his voice but not his tone, “but to remind this ancient and honorable House not to lose its sense in the face of uncertainty. The Jedi have long been loyal and have given us no reason to doubt them. An independent inquiry _must_ be raised! And until no charge of crime can be posthumously brought to the Supreme Chancellor’s name, all associated with him must immediately and unequivocally relinquish their authority and allow our judiciary system to thoroughly investigate both the Jedi _and_ this House.”

“You invite madness!” Amedda shouts, his voice backed by hundreds.

“I invite courage! To stand true to our convictions and belief in the power of democracy! Open your eyes, Senators! A veil has been pulled back and the world is now unshrouded. We must uphold the things that we value most and we must do it united!”

For a brief, blessed moment, silence rings across the floor.

Then Amedda, his anger turning seamlessly back into that brittle smile, says, “And who will lead us in this trying time, Senator?” The unspoken implication in his question is pointed and dripping with poison.

No, Bail is not the man to lead them in this. He doesn’t have the support in either the Senate or the Courts. Not enough to make a difference.

He falls silent, Amedda’s smile grows, and the Senate dissolves once more into chaos.

* * *

Of course, arresting Obi-Wan will only prove of any use if the man survives. Visiting the Temple before the emergency session came with little update beyond ‘he’s still breathing’ and ‘that might not continue’. Bail can’t entertain the idea of Obi-Wan dying, not really. The man is as constant and unmovable as a star and for all that they don’t always see eye to eye about things, is one of Bail’s closest and truest friends.

Which likely says far more about him than it does about Obi-Wan.

Breha’s forever encouraging him to make connections beyond the world of politics but he knows a Jedi General isn’t what she’s been hoping for. One of these days, Bail hopes to drag Obi-Wan away from his duties and introduce him to his wife. To listen to the two of them talk circles around each other with growing delight and watch as their gentle souls conspired in some devious way to impart more good into a galaxy that so badly needs it. It’s always been a ‘when we have time’ wish. A ‘when the war is done’, ‘when there is less work’, ‘when it’s convenient’. And now it might not happen.

“Organa.”

He steps out of his transport onto one of the docking bays at the Jedi Temple. It’s swarming with security - both Jedi and Senate - and he quickly gets the impression that he’s not going to be allowed entrance.

Instead, a tall man with long black hair and the least Jedi-looking outfit he’s seen in a while leans against the wall and beckons him over.

“You were in the Hall of Healing,” Bail realizes, placing him in the shadows beyond Obi-Wan’s room earlier that day. “Is he-”

“He’s alive.” The answer is gruff and unfriendly. “I plan on keeping him that way.”

“Of course. Forgive me, I didn’t get your name, Master-”

“Vos. Quinlan Vos.” His dark eyes flicked towards several of the milling guards, surprisingly showing more wariness of the Jedi than he is of the Senate.

“You’re a friend of Master Kenobi’s?” His presence in the Halls of Healing suggests as much, but in their current situation it doesn’t hurt to establish a baseline. Vos looks and holds himself so differently.

“I owe Kenobi everything,” Vos grunts. “Shoulda known the annoying shleb would find the most dramatic way to make me pay him back.” He sounds gruff, his arms crossing over his chest in a visible show of annoyance, but Bail knows people and there’s something close to grief in Vos’s eyes. “Here.” He holds out his hand and drops a data chip into Bail’s palm. “You’ll wanna listen to that on the way.”

“Way? Way where? I need to see Obi-Wan.” He makes a start towards the entrance only to run into the solid path of Vos’s outstretched arm.

“Obi-Wan’s gone. You’re too late.”

“You said he was alive,” Bail whispers, coldness creeping into his bones.

Vos scowls and waves over a passing taxi. “Yeah. He’s alive. And he’s gone. They ain’t mutually exclusive. Now get in.”

He has a strong suspicion that he’s being kidnapped right now, but lacks either the concern or focus to really care and lets Vos push him into the back of the cab, his ominous words ringing in Bail's ear. What does that even mean? Alive but gone? The Jedi waits until the door closes before activating the privacy screen and gesturing to the chip. “Listen to it.”

Cautiously, Bail slots it into his comm. Immediately, a holo of Obi-Wan appears before him.

“ _Hello, old friend,_ ” even in the holo, Obi-Wan looks worn and resigned. “ _Firstly, I apologize for Quinlan’s manners. We’re working on them but I’m afraid he’s been spending far too long with criminals._ ” Vos grunts in response. “ _Secondly, well... if you’re watching this then I am afraid I’ve done something you’ll think rather foolish. I assure you there were no other options, but I am sorry for the situation I am about to put you in._ ” Obi-Wan’s image looks over his shoulder before turning back, his voice dropping lower. “ _I have little time, so I’ll make it quick. Vos will stay by your side for protection and hopefully I will have everything in place by the time you’re hearing this_.” He signs, his shoulders straightening resolutely.

Bail pauses the holo and looks to Vos. “Where are we going?”

“For a burger and fries,” Vos smirks.

That’s not really an answer. At least not one that makes sense. Fine. Let the Jedi keep his secrets for now.

He touches the holo again and soaks in the confidence and calm that comes from hearing Obi-Wan’s voice.

“ _My friend, I must ask for your help._ ”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a LOT going on in this chapter! Some answers, a lot more questions, and a few new additions to the 'wring Obi-Wan's neck when this is done' club.

* * *

**BEFORE**

* * *

Garen Muln has loved Obi-Wan Kenobi since they were four years old and wanted to throttle him for roughly the same amount of time. Obi-Wan is one of his best friends and they’ve been to hell and back together more times than he really enjoys recounting. It’s worth noting that Obi-Wan is consistently the common denominator in Garen’s various life and death encounters and he’s by no means the only one to notice it. If there’s a plot abound, a scheme being hatched, murder being plotted or mayhem even being considered, nine times out of ten Obi-Wan is somewhere in the vicinity.

And if there’s a _Sith_ involved...

“You’re gonna have to run that one past me again,” the communication coming from the Temple has been run through more encryptions than he’s ever seen before, which might explain why he’s having trouble understanding the words Obi-Wan is saying. “Because it sounds a lot like you’re asking me to help you commit treason.”

“That would be the sum of it,” Obi-Wan sighs heavily, “yes.”

Locked in a secure communications room in Acherin’s Royal Palace, deep into the depths of Wild Space, his small unit of clone troopers standing guard beyond the sealed door, there’s no one to see the utterly obscene gesture he makes at the holo of his friend.

When Obi-Wan lets it pass without even a quirk of those stupid eyebrows of his, Garen swears loudly. “Stars and kriffing moons, Obi, what are you involved in this time?”

“The less you know, the better,” he says, because he’s been a cryptic bastard since the age of twelve and has gotten consistently worse every year until the Council made him High General. Now he’s downright impossible. “But can you do it?”

“You want me to singlehandedly broker a truce between the Confederacy and the Jedi which, ignoring the fact that you’re charming one in this friendship and I’m the guy who stabs people, you want me to negotiate on behalf of the _Jedi_. Not the Republic. The Jedi.”

“Yes,” he says. Just yes. He is such a kriffing sl-

He takes a breath. Let’s his desire to strangle his oldest friend dissipate into the Force - and swears the Force sighs back in sympathy.

There’s no point asking to speak with Yoda or Mace about it. By this point, Obi-Wan’s word carries almost as much weight as theirs does, especially when it comes to the war effort. The part of Garen that remembers he is a Master and a General and not a Padawan anymore knows that he’s being given an order by a superior and only Obi-wan’s stupid manners merit it being phrased so nicely.

“Fine. But if Grevious kills me on my way to Mustafar please know I will haunt you for the rest of eternity.” Grievous has killed so many of their brother and sister Jedi that he has to laugh to keep from crying.

Obi-Wan doesn’t smile. “Don’t worry about Grevious,” he says, and he _can_ say that he’s Obi-Wan kriffing Kenobi; he’s wiped the floor with Garen in saber technique for three decades straight. “Just do what you can to secure a ceasefire and at worst make sure they don’t leave the planet. Do you think you can do that, Master Muln?” The use of Garen’s recently earned title is pointed, the little sleb. Obi-Wan has earned each of his ranks first and always in ways he’s never felt were deserved; no one has celebrated their friend’s similar achievements more.

“I think,” he says, softening under a look he’s never had much success in ignoring, “that I’m probably going to get shot. Or blown up. Or stabbed by a four-armed murder robot. Either way, trips to Dex’s are gonna be on you for the next ten years.”

The holo flickers. So does Obi-Wan’s smile. “My friend, nothing would give me more joy. May the Force be with you.”

And then he’s gone. The holo is silent. The line of communication dead.

Twenty-four hours later, Garen lands on Mustafar to absolute chaos and a message that Obi-Wan Kenobi has killed the High Chancellor.

* * *

Dex Jettster knows a lot of people. Those people know a lot of people. And those people know even more.

It means that _he_ knows the Chancellor is dead a good hour before the news makes the holonet. It also means he wakes up from a much needed evening nap to over a hundred messages. Most of them he deletes without listening to, but one among the hundreds catches his attention.

_Kenobi, Obi-Wan._

The diner is empty. They stop serving food late in the evening and he leaves the girls to run the graveyard shifts until the following morning. The city is unnaturally silent and his only company are droids, so he replays the message again. And again.

“Oh kid, what have you done?”

He lets his head fall into the palm of one of his hands and takes a moment to wallow in the sheer depths of chaos the Galaxy is about to descend into.

“Yo Dex! You still serving those giant shakes? The ones with the little umbrellas?”

Quinlan Vos’s booming voice cuts through his blooming misery and announces to the empty diner that things are about to take a significant turn for the worse. Behind him, looking as relaxed as is possible for a man who sticks out in Dex’s dive like a proverbial sore thumb, Senator Bail Organa, Prince of Alderaan, smiles politely.

“Damnit to the seven hells, Obi-Wan,” he mutters. This is all Qui-Gon’s influence. His Obi-Wan was a nice, smart, _sensible boy_. One with very little sense of self-preservation, he’ll grant, but-

“You’ve heard the news?” Vos drops down into the booth opposite him.

“Who hasn’t?” Dex grunts. “What do you need, Vos?” It’s not that he doesn’t like Quinlan, it’s just... no. He _doesn’t_ like Quinlan. The man is an ass. A dangerous one at that.

And he no longer knows if Vos is the bad influence on Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan is the bad influence on him, or if they both spiral around each other in an increasing wild descent into madness. The last time the two of them were here together they shared a tuberale float then kriffed off to the far side of the galaxy to pick a fight with a group of Hutts.

Vos flashes a wide, dangerous smile that doesn’t come close to meeting his cold eyes. “What I need is for you to help me break into the Jedi archives.”

* * *

Somewhere in the depths of Wild Space, a very dashing and supremely irritated pirate is on a wild bantha chase.

“Just a quick errand, Hondo! Won’t even take you far off course, Hondo! I’ll owe you a favor, Hondo! Ha! Three! That’s three favors he owes me! Three! Don’t think I’ve forgotten about the gundark!”

“Er, boss?”

It occurs to Hondo that he’s been ranting. At the helm. For the last hour or so.

“What?” he demands, trying to sound In Charge and In Control of his Shit.

This navigator is a new one and clearly hasn’t learned how to read the room. “Who owes you a favor?” Hondo coughs. Pointedly. “Three favors!”

Honestly, where does he even find his crew these days? This one looks about twelve. He’s getting soft. Too soft. No more strays. No more favors!

“Kenobi!”

The kid frowns, his brows wrinkling. “The Jedi? Why are we doing a Jedi a favor? I mean three favors!”

Kids these days.

No respect.

No imagination.

“Because...” he waits for a name.

“Er, Trill. Sir. Boss. Captain?”

“Because _Trill_ , having a Jedi owe you a favor is extremely valuable currency!”

“But you said he owes you three. So maybe he’s not planning on,” he swallows loudly, eyes as wide as sinkholes under Hondo's glare, “honoring them?”

Hondo claps a hand to his chest before he can stop himself. “Obi-Wan Kenobi is many things! Many annoying, insufferable, well-groomed, sarcastic, impeccably spoken things! And honorable is one of them!”

“Except for that time-” on his left, Ipix throws a hydro spanner in the whirling engine of his indignation.

“Except for that!" He huffs. "Three favors! Big payoff!”

“Yes, Boss,” Trill nods earnestly.

Although this favor is shaping up to count for two. One and a half at the very least.

They dock in a port so grim, unsanitary and rowdy that he, patron of the unwashed and lawless, feels unclean just being there and follows Kenobi’s ‘helpful directions’ towards the local slave market.

Terribly distasteful business, slavery. Why Kenobi wants to have anything to do with their likes he’ll never know.

After an hour of scouting, he spots his target.

He moves in on his target.

His target then punches him in the face.

Not his finest moment. Not his worst...

A vibroshiv slides under his chin, pointedly angle to kill him with minimal effort. “Ah!” Narrowing his eyes to focus through the swirling dizziness of his ringing head, he mentally checks off the list Kenobi gave him. Blue eyes. Slightly homicidal disposition. Terrible manners. Yes, he’s in the right place. “Before you kill me,” he says, holding his weapon up as if to say ‘ _look how harmless and friendly I am!’._ “Might I ask your name?”

The woman is roughly Kenobi’s age with blonde hair cropped short around her face and a decidedly _un-Jedi_ like choice of clothing. “Why would I tell you my name when I can just kill you?”

“That is an option,” he agrees, starting to nod his head before quickly thinking the better of it, “but then I would not be able to pass along my message and I feel that would be a terrible tragedy for all involved.” She cocks her head to one side, not bitting. “No really! I would not fulfill my end of the bargain! I am a man of my word, and yes, if I am dead that matters a little less but legacy is also important. I have a consortium to think of!”

“A consortium?” She raises a very unimpressed eyebrow.

“Of pirates,” he says proudly. “The very finest in the Galaxy. Why, we’re positively famous! Only last week we were condemned and praised by a Jedi in the _same breath_!” In fairness, it was one of Kenobi’s more pointed backhanded compliments but he can read between the lines.

Something stirs in the depths of her eyes. “Who are you?” she asks, tightening her grip on the handle of the blade. “What do you want?”

He lets himself smile, wide and welcoming. “My name, dear lady, is Hondo Ohnaka. As for what I want? Well, I’m looking for a dead Jedi. Used to go by the name of Siri Tachi. Don’t suppose that rings any bells?”

* * *

On Utapau, Ghost Company eagerly await their orders. It’s a rare occurrence to be without both their General and their Commander, but Tank is experienced, confident, and ready to prove himself worthy of their trust. The men are prepped and raring to go. They’re close, so kriffing close, to ending the war. If their intel is accurate, Grievous will be here, on the planet and on the back foot. They’re going to take back precious ground, box the bastard into a corner, and then blast it to the far ends of the universe.

“Incoming shuttle, sir!”

Tank stands tall and waits, wondering if the Commander has come to join them as the Republic fighter lands with neat efficiency. It’s not General Skywalker, but it doesn’t narrow the field by much.

The figure who emerges from the fighter is a brother. Tank’s gaze rolls up from the man’s feet, past metal support bracers wrapped around both legs, and up to a bucket that’s infamous among the vode.

“Sir,” Tank says, almost stuttering, almost in _awe_.

Alpha 17 raises his head and surveys the assembled men. “New orders,” he barks, “from General Kenobi.”

As one, Ghost Company snap to attention. “Sir!”

* * *

Coruscant has begun its transition from day to night. Bright lights illuminate the city until it can take the place of the starless sky above.

Obi-Wan has spent his whole childhood looking out over the familiar flicker and flare of the Capital. He wants one last look before...

It’s never quiet here, but peace can be found in so many ways and in the most unexpected places. For Obi-Wan it’s in the melody of running water in the Temple, in the curve of Anakin’s smile when he’s truly, genuinely happy and in the warmth of Cody’s eyes when they sit together after a long campaign and remember how to breathe. It’s in Bant’s laugh and Garen’s exasperated eye-roll when they bicker, in the twinkle the blooms in Bail’s eyes when he’s about to close an argument. It’s in the memory of Siri flooring him in a duel and Satine’s gentle ferocity. He can find it in everyone he loves and he holds those memories close to his heart, soaks up that peace and releases his fear into the Force.

He’s spent his life always on the move, the heart of a wanderer just as Qui-Gon always said, and he’s always able to find a measure of peace wherever he goes.

But he won’t lie; there’s something rather comforting about the way this is all going to end. These days Jedi aren’t often granted the luxury of choosing where they get to join the Force.

Touching his comm, he programs a delay into the last and most important message he will ever send.

The rest of his work is done. The pieces are in place and he can only trust to the Force.

Now, there’s only this one thing left to do.

Closing his eyes for a final moment of serenity, he calls upon those beloved memories.

_Be with me,_ he thinks.

The Senate doors open, inviting him in without a beat of hesitation.

He draws the Force around himself, gives himself over to the burning flame of its unquenchable Light, and steps into the Chancellor’s office.


End file.
